


Books and Boxes

by ellipeps



Series: One Shots, Drabbles and Probably Shitty Ideas [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Because hell yeah, First Meeting, M/M, Neighbors, book-y!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 17:19:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2033421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellipeps/pseuds/ellipeps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is just moving in, carrying boxes after boxes to the tune of Sixpence None The Richer. His life is great, but perhaps it's a little bit better with some unexpected help?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Books and Boxes

**Author's Note:**

> Here you go, another midnight rambling! I only seem to be able to write first meetings, but yeah, hope you enjoy!

Carrying boxes is horrible. Castiel loves his books more than anything, and he loves his new apartment. But moving his beloved books to his new amazing apartment, on the top floor, is awful. He could get help, Gabriel is only an hour away, but since Gabriel is well, Gabriel, it would be less lifting and more drinking. It is probably easier and quicker to do it alone. All of the big furniture, like the couch, bed and kitchen table had already been placed haphazardly in his new apartment, it only took an extra 100 dollars and the men driving his stuff from one place to another were happy to do it.

Castiel stops halfway up, on the second floor, and leans against the wall, box in his arms, supported by his hip. It is sure to bruise tomorrow. Oh well, not much you can do. Everything for one’s books. He is going to have one bookcase for poetry, one for fiction, one for his old school books, alright two for fiction, or three come to think of it. And perhaps one for only the German and French books. And then another for the biographies. He’ll have to take a major IKEA day soon, and add at least three more BILLY’s to his collection. Now, with the new apartment he has the space, he doesn’t have to sort through his books and choose which to have in the apartment.

He hums along to Kiss Me by Sixpence None The Richer as he decides make one final push with this box and then take a real pause, perhaps unpacking a few boxes already in the apartment before bringing up the last few boxes from his ratty old car. He pushes off the wall and moves towards the staircase, but is interrupted by a hand tapping on his shoulder.

“Did you want something?” A man says as Castiel takes out his earphones and turns around, dropping the box. “Oh, shit, sorry to scare ya’, here, let me help you!” The man crouches down to help him with the box, but he does it at the same moment as Castiel leans down, and they bump their heads.

“I’m so sorry, I-“ Castiel stops when he sees the man, who he suspects is his new neighbor. His neighbor is dressed in worn jeans and a grey Henley, he is barefoot, and he seems to be newly showered, water still dripping from his hair, running down his forehead, into his eyes. The man blushes as he wipes his eyes, a dark shade of pink appearing underneath the freckles covering his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. His green eyes look up at Castiel from where he’s now sitting on the floor. Castiel tries again.

“I’m sorry, again, I’m just moving in and I- I must have leaned against your doorbell, I’m sorry, really, I didn’t mean to disturb!” The man, now picking up himself from the floor, taking the box with him just laughs.

“It’s cool man, no need to use up all your apologizes on me,” he says, before continuing, “I’m Dean, I live in there,” he points at the door on Castiel’s left, blue, with a big 21 on the door, “but you’ve probably already figured that out.” He smiles at Castiel, an open smile that makes his eyes crinkle. Castiel doesn’t think he’s ever seen a more adorable smile in his life.

“Hi, I’m Castiel, I’m moving in up on 5th floor,” Castiel says, smiling back. Is the man flirting with him? He doesn’t know, can’t tell. Dean reaches his hand out from underneath the box awkwardly and Castiel shakes it.

“You got any more of these you need lifting?” Dean asks, walking towards the staircase, urging Castiel to walk with him, still carrying Castiel’s box of books like it weighs nothing.

“Yes, actually I do, I have four left in my car. But it’s fine, I don’t want- I’m sure you have something better to do,” Castiel stutters, confused by the kindness.

“That’s no problem, I’ll help ya’, it’ll only take half as long if we’re two, right?” Dean says and stops outside of Castiel’s door, waiting for Castiel to scramble with the keys. Castiel’s apartment is the only one on 5th, so there’s only the one door, apart from the one leading to the roof.

“If you’re sure, then, yes thank you, I’d appreciate that,” Castiel says and smiles shyly. “You can just put it in the living room, it’s fine,” he continues when Dean looks at him questioningly, gesturing at the box in his hands.

 

* * *

 

Four boxes and two turns later they’re back in Castiel’s apartment, drinking lukewarm beer. The whole floor is littered with boxes, all filled with books. It’s gonna take ages to sort through them.

“So, where you gonna put them all?” Dean asks, and clarifies, “The books, that is.” Castiel takes another sip from his beer, watching Dean drink from his, pink lips kissing the flask, lips licking at the edge at a drop making its way down the neck of the flask, before answering.

“Well, I’m going to IKEA on Sunday. I need more shelves,” Castiel says matter-of-factly.

“In that car? Dude, you have a Fiat. It’s half the size of mine. Let me take you, and I’ll help you assemble them afterwards, okay?” Dean exclaims, looking at Castiel with narrow eyes, like he’s wondering how someone thinks driving to IKEA with a small, rusty Fiat to buy three bookcases is a brilliant idea.

“You don’t have to- I mean- Sorry, I just think that surely you must have something better to do than help me, again,” Castiel says, looking down at his feet.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says, Castiel smiling slightly at the nickname, “I’m doing it because I want to. You seem cool. And I don’t want to lose my new cool neighbor in the maze of flowers and couches and toilet brushes they call IKEA, so I’m coming with,” he continues, poking at Castiel’s shoulder, “unless- unless you don’t want me to, which would be fine, I mean, I’m boring company, I-“ Dean starts again, more carefully before he gets interrupted by Castiel.

“No! I want you. I mean, I want you to. To go to IKEA with me,” Castiel says, looking at Dean with big blue eyes, blushing when he realizes what he said, but he nonetheless he adds: “And I don’t think you’re boring company…”

“Well then, I better get going, but uh, just come knock when you want- uh, need, me. Before Sunday is fine, if you don’t have a lot of food here now I have tons and yeah, uh, just come knockin’, Dean says awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand and setting the empty beer bottle down with the other, moving back towards the door. He gives Castiel a little wave and then disappears.

 

* * *

 

Later that afternoon when Castiel sorts through the first of many boxes he finds an old IKEA-catalogue that has snuck its way into his box filled with romantic poetry. He decides to take it as a sign, perhaps help (and dinner) from his neighbor doesn’t sound that bad after all?

**Author's Note:**

> (I had to promote IKEA, I'm Swedish after all!)  
> (And yes, I listened to Kiss Me on repeat as I wrote this)
> 
> Comments and kudos fuels every writer (that, bad ideas, coffee and chocolate), so please?


End file.
